


Love Will Find A Way

by MysticPuma



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Martin Crieff Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticPuma/pseuds/MysticPuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I may not be brave, or strong, or smart. But somewhere in my secret heart I know… love will find a way. Anywhere I go, I'm home if you are there beside me. Like dark turning into day." – Love Will Find a Way, The Lion King 2</p>
<p>Douglas has always made Martin calmer… But why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know how consistent my updates will be, due to my laptop being out of comission, but I shall do my best xxx

Martin and Douglas both groaned in unanimous annoyance as Carolyn made the dreaded announcement.

"We have a very full schedule for the next month!" was all it took for the two pilots to nearly lose the will to live. Martin's face fell into his hands as he thought about all the lost business for his actual money-earning job.

Douglas just let out and exasperated groan at the very thought of no free time. But then, he reasoned, it face him less time to dewll on his status as a single man. His home was so empty, quiet, lonely without Helena. It may have been nearly siz months since the divorce has been filed, and of course Douglas had successfully gotten over his third wife, but that didn't stop the feeling of loneliness. He shook his head lighting, returning to the portacabin abruptly.

"How full?" he dared to ask. He soon regretted it, as Carolyn proceeded to explain that they had twenty flights, in thirty days. The only breaks they got were two days between a flight to Florida, and the return fight; one day between a flight two and from Madagascar, plus five days (split into two separate stretches of 3 days and 2 days) around a couple of flights to and from Hong Kong. Other than that, their only breaks were the required twelve hours between each flight, which to be fair was usually shorter than that (and occasionally longer, but not often). Martin's face turned from scared to terrified. His rent was due soon… How would he pay it without the time to make any money!? Once Carolyn was gone, he started to hyperventilate. Douglas turned his head to look at Martin in shock.

"Okay, Martin, calm down." He said.

"B-but how can I pay my rent!?" Martin couldn't help but wail.

"What?"

"I won't have time for van jobs!" Martin exclaimed.

"Ah, yes…" Douglas muttered, strangely calm. "Don't worry. It'll be okay. You'll think of something." He said, standing up and placing a hand on Martin's shaking shoulder gently, before he left the portacabin. He didn't stay long enough to see Martin's reaction as the words sank in.

Martin slowly began to calm. The warmth on his shoulder spread through him slowly, and his muscles relaxed one-by-one, his breathing returned to a normal rhythm, as he replayed those words in his head: You'll think of something… Douglas thought he could do it. Douglas believed Martin could do something! He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face at the thought of Douglas believing in him. It was like a sedative, or other drug, injected into an animal to stop it thrashing as the vets did their work. That's what it had done; it had stopped Martin's mind thrashing in panic, leaving him in a numb sense of calming bliss. He could do this.


	2. Chapter 2

The first day of the month had them flying cargo to Australia. It was a posh dining room set, and the familiarity of delivery alongside flying had Martin in a relatively calm mood. Or was it the fact that Douglas had just walked in, allowing Martin to remember what he'd said just two days before?

"Good morning, Martin." Douglas said as he entered the flight desk.

"Morning… You're late again." Martin berated. Douglas shrugged slightly, before he collapsed into his seat with a distinct lack of grace. For all his smooth talking, and posh voice, Douglas was spectacularly undignified.. Maybe it was because it was only Martin, which Martin found just a little offensive (although he really shouldn't; it meant Douglas was relaxed around him, but of course Martin didn't do a course on understanding people in Ipswich so he didn't see it that way…) He sighed. "Any excuses to list this time?" he asked, although his voice lacked the dripping sarcasm Douglas always seemed to achieve.

"I don't believe it is compulsory for me to have an explanation for my delayed arrival, sir." Douglas retorted, putting extra emphasis on the work 'sir', as usual. Martin rolled his eyes. "If you must know… I overslept." He said, and Martin could almost hear a hint of a sheepish tone in his voice.

"Oh, the great sky god overslept…" Martin murmured with a light chuckle. Douglas scowled.

Twenty minutes later, and they were in the air.

"Post take-off checks complete, Captain." Douglas said. Martin nodded, and reclined in his chair as he turned on the auto-pilot. "So… Thought of anything yet?" Douglas asked. Martin turned his head to him in order to frown in confusion. "Your money problem." Douglas prompted. Martin sighed a little. Trust Douglas to bring it up.

"No. Nothing." He said, as though it was obvious.

"Don't worry." Douglas said, and Martin frowned a little at the apparent sincerity in his voice. "You'll think of something eventually."

"Are you ill?" Martin asked, before he could stop himself. Douglas stared at him. "You're being sincere…"

"I'm not heartless, Martin…" Douglas muttered; did he actually sound… hurt? Martin looked down, and muttered a quick apology.

A while was spent in silence, Martin focusing a little too much on the controls in front of him, and Douglas staring out at the sun reflecting on the sea below them. Eventually, Martin suggested a game of 'songs that sound more interesting with the last letter knocked off'. Of course, Douglas commented sarcastically on the originality of the game, but suggested 'My heart will go o', immediately making Martin laugh.

Their game continued at a languid pace; their reactions weren't exactly lightning quick, but the flight-deck was rarely silent. Arthur tried (and failed) to koin in when he brought lunch, the cheese tray, or coffee. Douglas was shocked to find that Arthur was actually a lot worse at the game than Martin… Martin seemed to have a whole array of songs in his brain. This was certainly shocking given his lack of hobbies.

"Well I don't drive my van in silence." Martin snapped when questioned. "I sometimes have the radio on… Or a CD." He elaborated. "Just because I haven't got any real… hobbies… doesn't mean I'm immediately exempt from anything recreational!" he rambled, a defensive tone poisoning his words with a desperation to prove himself. His ears had gone pink, and his face red, whether with anger or embarrassment, Douglas couldn't tell. He reasoned it was likely both.

By the half-way point, they were bored of that game… Instead, their conversation turned casual. However, Martin noted that it was rather a conversation usually had when initially getting to know someone, as they quizzed each other on their tastes in music. You'd expect to know at least a little about your friend's music tastes after two years working with him… But evidently this wasn't the case.

Of course, Douglas was a fan of Opera, but Martin was fascinated by his interest in West-End musicals, or indeed Broadway. A lot of opera lovers cast musicals as a cheap rip-off of the high-classed art. Obviously, Martin was hardly surprised by Douglas' love of older songs, and classical music, but his secret passion for country was definitely a shock.

Martin, on the other hand, preferred quite a bit of modern music. He admitted this didn't include much pop; more rock and alternative. Martin did, however, also have a hidden love for country music. He also admitted to an unhealthy obsession with any song that mentioned flying, no matter the style. But then, Douglas wasn't exactly surprised by that.

When they finally landed in Sydney, they both had to stretch, having barely moved for the duration of the flight.

Their hotel was unsavoury, to be nice. The walls were plagued with damp and cracks were absent in only half of them. Spiders had made cobwebs in most of the corners, and yet the place was still infested with flies and various other insects. Martin's skin crawled, and Douglas couldn't help but curse several times, an odd occurrence to say the least. Carolyn explained that it was so they could each have their own room. But even Martin and Douglas exclaimed they'd rather share than go to another hotel like this one. Carolyn conceded it was the worst hotel they're ever been to, and promised they'd be in a nicer one on their trip to Kyoto, which was next.

Martin got hardly a wink of sleep. The room was freezing and he couldn't get above freezing point, no matter how small a ball he curled up into. The wind howled outside the window, and he couldn't block out the constant, unnerving sound of scuttling feet around him. Half-way through the night it became too much and he burst into tears. He was next door to Douglas, so he kept his sobs silent, but that just made it harder not to shake. He'd never wanted his little attic room badly in his life. The broken futon he used as a bed with the coffe stains and funny smell was more inviting than the thin layers of sheets over splintered wood that smelt of piss and cigarettes. At least he had a heater back home, minimal insulation and proper covers. He began to whimper, not caring who heard him…

Douglas…" he finally whispered. He needed the calming presence of his first officer, a sarcastic comment, anything… "Douglas…" he sobbed shakily. He hated how he was so desperate for him, but he was so scared… So alone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sleep well?" Douglas asked, a little sarcastic. Martin shook his head gently. Only then did Douglas really look at him… Martin's eyes were red and puffy, with black rings under then. Tear-stains covered his entire face, and he was sickeningly pale, even a little blue. "My god, Martin. You look awful."

"Shut up." Martin snapped quietly, turning his face away. "This place sucks. The sooner we leave, the better."

"Are you sure you're fit to fly?" Douglas asked tentatively. The hurt look that crossed Martin's features made him immediately regret saying it, but it was a valid question… Martin really didn't look well. However, Douglas realised, a little late, that taking away Martin's ability to fly was like clipping a bird's wings. He would have no purpose, and he'd sink into a deep depression. The pang of guilt that hit Douglas when he saw a tear slip from Martin's eyes was like a knife to his heart, whatever was left of it… "Sorry," he said before he could stop himself. "I'm sure it'll be fine." And he forced himself to smile gently at the young Captain. Martin's eyes lit up a little, but he turned away in embarrassment as he realised the tear about to drip from his face. He hastily wiped it away, before following Carolyn from the lobby in silence, his face painted with an ashamed sadness which it hurt Douglas to look at.

As soon as they were in the air, Martin began to look better, healthier, and Douglas realised how much flying really was to Martin. It was his life, in more ways than one.

Martin was angry with himself. He'd let himself cry in front of Douglas. I was only one tear, but it was enough to be ammunition. He cursed himself, and remained near silent for most of the trip, ashamed and upset. He was glad that Douglas seemed to have decided he was in a gracious mood today, it caved him from the sarcastic jibes of their usual flights, although he had to say it was terribly boring without a work game going and the trip felt like it laster for days. But still, at least having Douglas nearby kept Martin sane.

Their flight to Kyoto involved a long rally of the Traveling Lemon, which Martin was of course objectional about. He didn't know whether it was a good or bad thing that this time their passengers already doubted his professionalism, so had no respect to lose. Douglas tried the hat trick again, which earned him a mocking from Martin and Carolyn. He tried various obscure places, but it seemed that, for once, Martin was having a good day. Several times, he questioned the reality of the flight.

When they reached Kyoto, Carolyn led them to the hotel, explaining that she'd already booked it, along with a profound apology. It wasn't as bad as the hotel in Sydney (technically it had been on the outskirts), but it wasn't much better… There were less insect, and at least the whole place was slightly heated, and slightly cleaner. But it was still appalling. Of course, they still had separate rooms. While Douglas and Carolyn counted this among their blessings, Martin and Arthur didn't (for very different reasons)…

The previous night, back home, had seen Martin get the best night of sleep he'd ever had in his drafty old attic, the relief of warmth and a half decent place to sleep (plus his extreme lack of energy thanks to his lack of sleep in Sydney) had meant the was out like a light as soon as his head hit the threadbare, but soft, pillow.

But here wasn't such an easy night… He wasn't cold, because he was hudded on the floor next to the heater. The floor was, admittedly, more comfortable than the 'bed', yet again, some elevated boards with a few sheets over the top in an attempt to hide the nails and splinters. However, he was still plagued by the scuttles of the invisible insectoid army. The wind wasn't as bad, but that just made the insects sound worse. He also knew, for a fact, that his back would hurt like hell in the morning – wait, was that the sunrise? Bugger.

He trudged down the stairs, flight bag in hand.

"Another good night's rest?" Douglas asked sarcastically. Martin sighed, rubbing his eyes to emphasise the point. Douglas grimaced.

The flight home was filled with sarcastic comments, mainly aimed at Martin, although occasionally Arthur received the odd snide comment, which he neglected to find insulting. Martin would have given anything to be so blissfully unaware. The statement "ignorance is bliss" was definitely proved true by Arthur. However, Martin had to admit, the sarcastic comments were better than the silence they had suffered on the last home-ward flight. Despite the irritating quality they possessed, Martin couldn't help finding them a comforting reminder of Douglas' presence, which was calming him more and more of late.


	4. Chapter 4

As the trips went on, and the company earned a bit of extra money (I know, a shocking thought), the hotels began to improve. After three more trips, the hotels were at a decent standard, however the price was pairing up. Despite the fact that they saw enough of each other being shut in the flight deck for countless hours together, both Douglas and Martin immediately said they would share; neither wanted to room with either Arthur or Carolyn.

The first instance of them having to share was in Florida. They had three nights to endure before they went home. The room was small, but warm. Martin took the bed next to the window, so he could watch the city below from it when he couldn't sleep, without disturbing Douglas.

However, on the first evening, Douglas set about attempting to worm his way into a random woman's room instead. Martin found this offensive, but also felt a strange pang in his chest. A pang he knew had green eyes. Martin couldn't help but laugh when a defeated Douglas returned to the hotel room sulking about accidentally hitting on a married woman. So Douglas decided to call it a night and crawled into his bed at about eleven o'clock. He was one of those people; if sleep was his objective, all he had to do was lay his head on the pillow and he was gone. So Martin spent a couple of hours switching between watching the city lights shift and change, and watching the gentle rise and fall of Douglas' chest; the occasional flutter of his eyelids, his frequent tosses and turns as he slept. Finally, the routine made Martin's eyelids heavy, and he tucked himself snuggly under the covers, pulling them up to his chin as the darkness of sleep lapped at his mind, pulling him into a dreamless and peaceful slumber.

He was awakened, rather rudely, by the insistent knocking of one Arthur Shappey on the hotel room door.

"Come on, chaps! Breakfast time!" came his all-too-cheery-for-eight-in-the-morning voice. Martin groaned in protest, and Douglas sighed, although it sounded more like a growl. They simultaneously rolled out of bed, although the difference was that Douglas did so _literally_ , and as such landed rather ungracefully on his backside, while Martin was stood, staring at him, before letting out a quiet chuckle, which accompanied a very wide smile. Doughlas met it with a scowl, but he couldn't stay mad when Martin continued to grin. It was such a rare sight, to see Martin smile so much; Douglas wouldn't let his pride quash it.

They got dressed quickly and opened the door, just as Arthur tried to knock again. Douglas managed to dodge Arthur's flying fist, but Martin wasn't so lucky, and he cried out in pain as Arthur's knuckles connected quite forcefully with his nose. Douglas suddenly rather regretted stepping aside, since Arthur would only have hit his chest…

"My god. Martin, are you alright?" he asked. Arthur's face twisted into one of shocked horror. Martin was clutching his face, as though it might fall apart it he took his hands away. Blood was dripping from them, and his cheeks were a similar shade of colour – wait, what? Why? "Martin?" Douglas repeated. Martin turned from them and silently fled to the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh, Arthur, you idiot boy…" Carolyn chided. Arthur gulped and stared at his hand fearfully, as if it might unleash its fury on him next.

"S-sorry, Mum… I-is Skip gonna be alright?" he asked shakily. Douglas sighed.

"You two go and eat, I'll look after him." He said. "Don't worry, Arthur," he continued, laying a comforting hand on the shaking steward's shoulder, "he'll be okay. He's not as brittle as he looks." He assured him. Carolyn gave him a sceptical look, but she knew he was just trying to calm Arthur down.

"O-okay…" Arthur stuttered.

"Come on, Arthur. Let's go get something to eat." Carolyn chipped in, and Arthur nodded, turning to walk down the corridor, towards the lift. "Make sure he's okay…" Carolyn said to Douglas, and the tone of care in her voice was one Douglas had only ever heard reserved for Arthur; the tone of a mother. Douglas nodded, and Carolyn turned to follow her son. Douglas closed the door quietly and went to the bathroom door. He raised his hand to knock, but decided against it.

"Martin? Are you alright?" he called. He heard Martin mumble something incoherent. "What was that?"

"Why do you care?" Martin snapped.

"Because, believe it or not Martin, I am your friend and I do worry about you." Douglas retorted, doing his best to hold back the sarcasm threatening to taint his words. "Can I come in, just to take a look at it?" he asked. A grunt of confirmation was all he got, so he opened the door.

Martin was stood in front of the mirror, his hands and t-shirt soaked with blood, as he attempted to dab at his nose with a clump of loo-roll, which was also drenched in red, Each time he touched his nose though, he flinched in pain.

"Is it broken?" Douglas asked. Martin shrugged.

"No idea…" he sighed. Douglas went over and gently prised Martin's hands from his nose, at which Martin flinched again in pain. "God I'm so pathetic…" Douglas faintly heard him murmur.

"What..?" he stopped, staring at Martin incredulously.

" _Arthur_ broke my nose…" he muttered.

"He may be stupid, but he isn't weak." Douglas said, in a attempt to convince Martin he wasn't pathetic. But, as usual, a sarcasm he couldn't curb leaked into his voice, and Martin tried to scowl, but failed, overwhelmed by the pain and the tears welling up in his eyes and the colour rising in his cheeks.

"I know I'm weak, Douglas…" he whispered, trying not to let his voice break. "But you don't have to point it out…"

"I didn't-"

"Leave me alone, please…" he rasped; he had turned his face away from Douglas. Douglas went to say something, but he was cut off as Martin turned to him again, blood still pouring from his twisted, broken nose. Tears mingled with the blood, and his eyes and cheeks were flushed a dark pink. "Please!" he cried. Douglas moved his hand a little towards Martin's face, but he flinched away. Douglas lowered his hand. "Go." Martin said, firmly but quietly.

"But-"

"GO!" Martin wailed, his voice breaking in pain and desperation. Douglas raised his hands defensively and stepped backwards out of the bathrrom, before Martin slammed the door in his face. He stood for a moment, staring at the door in silence, before he sighed and walked out, going to join Carolyn and Arthur.


	5. Chapter 5

Martin listened for the hotel room door to close, and then he fell to his knees on the cold bathroom floor, and cried. The sobs shook his body, and the ttears mingled with his blood as it dripped to the floor, cumulating into a large pool. He knew he should get his nose looked at, but he was too embarrassed… How could _Arthur_ break his nose? He was knocking on the door for god's sake! And the worst thing? Douglas had been trying to help him. It was humiliating and somehow he knew Douglas would never let him live it down, But it was a little comforting to know that he hadn't teased him yet…

After a long while, Martin's tears slowed, and he calmed himself down. He didn't know how long he'd been on the floor. His shirt had a large splatter of dried blood on it, as did the bathroom floor. Martin pulled himself up shakily, bracing himself on the sink. He felt weak from hunger and blood-loss, and the room was spinning, but he focused his atentipon on the mirror. He looked like some kind of monster. The lower part of his face was encrusted in dried blood and tears. He let his hand graze the surface of the rough red encasing. He flinched as he pulled some of it away.

He let his eyes settle on his nose. It was bent in a sickening way; definitely broken… Damnit. He sighed. How could Arthur – innocent, idiotic Arthur – have caused such collosal damage? It just wasn't normal… But then, Arthur had been expecting to hit a very hard, very tough wooden door. Instead, his fist had come into contact wih the soft, weak flesh and cartlidge of Martin's nose…

Martin was snapped out of his reverie as he heard the hotel room door open. Silence reigned for a moment, before a familiar voice called to him.

"Martin… Are you still in there?" Douglas asked. Martin answered with a grunt, he didn't have the energy for anything more. "Are you okay?" he didn't reply. "I sort of need the toilet, Martin…" Martin sighed, went to the door, and opened it. The look of horror on Douglas' face nearly made him burst into fresh tears and shut the door again. But to save himself the further humiliation, he turned his face away and pushed past Douglas quickly.

It was a moment until the bathroom door clicked shut again. Martin sighed, sitting on his bed. He was facing the window. It was bright out, nearly noon by the look of it… What time had they gotten up? Hadn't it been about half-eight? That meant… Martin had been in there for over three hours.

"Martin." Came Douglas' voice. Martin ignored it. He remained facing the window, head down. And yet, the calming prescence Douglas cast over the room was inescapable. The soothing sound of his voice was therapeutic… Martin blinked and suddenly Douglas was knelt in front of him, inspecting the damage. "You should get that seen to…" he said quietly, and for once not even a hint of sarcasm touched his voice. He was calm, sincere and kind, and could Martin hear the faintest tone of worry He could see the effort on Douglas' face.

"I don't want to." He finally replied. His voice cracked with a groggy tone that shattered the effect of defiance he'd been aiming for. Douglas rolled his eyes and sighed.

"You _need_ to get it seen to." He insisted. "It's broken…"

"I know."

"Then why won't you?"

"Because they'll ask how it happened."

"You just make sure they know it was an accident."

"Not the problem." His voice was so quiet now it was hardly even a whisper, and Douglas had to strain his ears to hear it. Douglas looked at him, a frown of confusion upon his face. "I don't want them to think I'm… weak." He sighed.

"You're not-"

"Yes I am. You said so."

"When?"

"Earlier. You said that Arthur isn't weak, in that sarcastic voice you own…" Martin explained.

"I meant it as a way to comfort you. We both know Arthur's stronger than he looks… I wasn't saying you were weak. You lift boxes and furniture for a living, how can you be weak?" Douglas said. Martin looked up, stunned by the sincerity in his voice. "Sorry you took it the wrong way… I didn't realise." He added. Martin couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his face. Douglas smiled back, just as involuntarily. "Now, will you _please_ get that looked at?" he muttered. Martin sighed as he nodded, letting Douglas lead him out of the room, down the stairs and into the lobby, where Arthur and Carolyn were sat.

Arthur jumped up as he saw the two of them, but visibly flinched at the sight of Martin's face. "Oh, come now Arthur! He's not that ugly!" Douglas exclaimed sarcastically. Martin sighed, but Arthur laughed,a nd he couldn't help but smile too. "We're just headed for the hospital. Don't worry." And there it was. The authoritative voice of First Officer Douglas Richardson. The voice that comforted any panicking passenger, or apparently any panicking Athur…

Martin was first out of the door, as Carolyn's hand had pulled Douglas back briefly by the shoulder. Douglas turned his head to her and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Look after him." She said, her voice dangerously low. "And be nice…" she added, even lower, as she released him. Douglas nodded, and quickly followed Martin out of the door. Carolyn stared after them as they disappeared.

"Come on Mum! Let's go get lunch!" Arthur called. Carolyn sighed. Oh how she wished she could be so carefree.


	6. Chapter 6

Martin and Douglas returned a few hours later. Martin wore an expression of humiliation, and the red of his cheeks contrasted worryingly with the paleness of the rest of his face, which was almost as pale as the bandage now strapped across his nose. Martin was about to disappear up to the hotel room, but Douglas grabbed his arm. Martin turned to look at him questioningly.

"You haven't eaten all day, Martin." Douglas said sternly. Martin opened his mouth to protest, but when he realised it was true, he closed it again. "Don't act like a fish, Martin…" Douglas chided. Martin looked down. "Come on, let's get you some food." And Martin swallowed his protests again as he was dragged towards the small restaurant that the hotel housed.

As Douglas forced him into a seat, Martin finally voiced his main concern: "Douglas, I don't have any money!"

"That's why I'm paying." Douglas drawled, as if it were obvious. Martin flailed.

"B-but-!"

"Shut up. Have whatever you want." Douglas said, attempting a sincere smile. Despite it turning out as more of a sarcastic grimace, Martin could see he was being serious. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, his protests silencing themselves before they could reach his lips. It seemed his grumbling stomach was soutwitting his slowed brain. Douglas handed him a menu silently, and perused one himself. When Martin tried to order the lowest priced meal, Douglas cut in, asking the waitress for a few more minutes.

"Martin." He said. Martin looked at him. "I said _what you want_."

"I-I know…" Martin muttered sheepishly.

"You asked for a _baked potato_ with _butter_ …"

"I-I like them!" Martin tried.

"I'm not stupid, Martin." Douglas muttered dangerously. Martin looked away.

"I don't want you spending too much money on me!" he cried weakly.

"Martin. You need to eat properly." Douglas said, annoyed. Martin looked away again. "Please?" he tried, and he watched as Martin's head snapped up, his eyes wide as they met Douglas' attempt at a pleading gaze. Martin seemed to become a fish again for a moment, his mouth opening and closing periodically, before he looked down at the menu. But the words wouldn't come into focus through the tears welling in his eyes. He felt the water run down his cheeks, and praying it would extinguish the fire scorching them… Douglas must have noticed, but if he did, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he simply pushed the menu forward an inch and gently said: "Order, Martin. Whatever. You. Want."

Eventually, Douglas managed to convince Martin that he really could have anything, and he managed to get Martin to eat lasagne, with garlic bread for started and a large slice of chocolate cake for dessert. It was a relatively normal looking meal from Douglas' perspective, but to Martin it was the height of fine cuisine; everything he never had, because he couldn't afford it.

"Enjoy that?" Douglas asked. Martin nodded quietly, and Douglas smiled, satisfied. It was about seven o'clock now, and Martin yawned. "Tired?" Douglas asked. Martin looked down, sheepishly, before he nodded a little. Douglas couldn't help but smile. Martin couldn't wipe the contented smile from his face, and yet his eyes were drooping in the sort of tired way that always gave you a warm feeling if you were experiencing it. "Come on." Douglas said, leading the half-asleep young Captain to the counter with him. He paid the bill, pretending the receptionist hadn't given him a 'knowing'look, as he led Martin out and back up, via the lift, to their shared room. He swiped his key-card and pushed the door open, pulling Martin gently by the arm. The Captain was practically sleep-walking, the 'excitement' of the day and the large meal depleting whatever energy he'd had.

As Douglas pulled back the sheets of Martin's bed, he noticed a light snoring coming from the limp body he'd been supporting.. He sighed lightly, picking up Martin in his arm. He was far too light… His diet was really testing the limits of the human body.

He set Martin down carefully on the mattress, in a sitting position, before pulling his t-shirt off. He'd just have to sleep in his jeans; it would be a little creepy to do that for him, and the poor Captain would probably die of embarrassment. He struggled with the t-shirt though, considering the Captain's arms had rather become dead weights... Douglas couldn't help contemplating how Martin would react if he woke up without arms. He stifled a chuckle at the girly scream he imagined.

When he'd finally peeled the t-shirt away, and lifted it carefully over Martin's bandaged nose, he simply dropped the top on the floor beside the bed.

He stopped for a moment, staring. Despite his weight, Martin did seem to be relatively muscly… Obviously his man-with-a-van job kept him fit… but this was shocking. Douglas had to blink a few times, before he manged to clode his mouth, and push Martin back onto the pillow. He pulled the covers up, and tried to shove his disappointment to a dark corner of his mind, as the sheets covered Martin's bare chest. He turned and left the room, heading down to the bar. Maybe he'd have better luck this time.


	7. Chapter 7

Martin's eyes opened slowly. No light filtered in to blind him immediately though. It was dark, but the click that had woken him up was followed by light, the bright, hall light kind, which came in as a bright shaft, which filtered into the right of his vision. He squinted, turning his head towards it.

Wait… his head was on something soft… A pillow? The last thing he remembered was… Leaving the restaurant, coming upstairs… Then, nothing. He blushed madly as Douglas entered. Martin could just about make out the dejected look on his face; another attempt at pulling women then…

Martin sighed inwardly, closing his eyes, and allowing his head to roll back onto the pillow. He listened to Douglas' footsteps, heard the door click shut. It was comforting to hear him moving around. It kept Martin aware of the world. He knew Douglas would never… could never reciprocate his feelings… But he didn't need that. Of course, it hurt when Douglas made a joke about his status as a bachelor; he often got close to cracking and screaming _"yeah, well the man I love doesn't feel the same!"_ … But he never did.

He struggled to keep his face neutral as he felt the bed shift a little. Douglas was sitting on the edge of the bed…? The he noticed the slightly scratchy covers were rubbing against his bare skin… He was topless. He couldn't stop himself blushing at the thought of Douglas removing his shirt… But that though becamse the last thing on his mind as he felt a warm hand on his cheek. His breath hitched, but he kept up the façade. The back of Douglas' hand lightly brushed down his face, and he heard Douglas whisper something, but it was so quiet, he couldn't make it out…

Okay, he couldn't do it anymore… He opened his eyes.

Douglas jumped about a foot into the air, snatching his hand away as if it had been burnt. He was staring at Martin fearfully, like he was some kind of monster.

"Douglas?" Martin croaked.

"Ho-how long have you been a-awake!?" Douglas exclaimed. Martin decided the truth would be best, given the unexpected stammer in Douglas' voice.

"Since you opened the door…" his voice was groggy. The look of horror that crossed Douglas' face quickly melted into a forced calm.

"Oh…"

"Douglas, what were you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, I was in the bar…" he muttered, as he moved away from Martin's bed. Martin sighed lightly.

"I meant just now…" he said. Douglas' face twisted in panic, as did his stomach.

"I was…uh… Checking your temperature!" he exclaimed in a hurry. Martin gave him a look, and for once Douglas looked away in embarrassment.

"Douglas?" Martin asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Douglas looked at him for a moment, then he sighed, and slumped onto his own bed, resolving that the truth was definitely the best way.

"Okay… I wasn't checking your temperature…" he murmured.

"Then why-?"

"I just… Okay, you'll probably use this against… But…" he paused to gather his thoughts. "I like you." God, he sounded like a teenager finally talking to the 'girl next door'… "I like you more than I probably should, okay? There, I said ir." He explained.

"You… you what?" Martin stammered quietly.

"I-I'm not repeating it!" Douglas exclaimed. "You know what I said." He moved towards the door. Martin clambered hurriedly out of the bed and ran towards him, as he opened the door.

"Douglas, wait!" he cried. Douglas paused, deciding whether to turn and face to inevitable mockery, or flee and leave it for later… Eventually, he turned. Martin was stood right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

"Of course… I didn't sound sarcastic, did I?" Douglas asked, confused. Martin shook his head. "Good… Go on then. Get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

"Mock me. Go on… I know you want to. You never have anything against me. Now you do. The pilot past his prime that fell for the dashing young Captain…"

"I wasn't- You're not _past your prime_ , Douglas…" Martin muttered,

"I haven't pulled in two days!" Douglas exclaimed exasperatedly.

"True… But even _you_ have bad days. You can't base it on two days of bad luck." Martin assured him.

"How would you know?" Douglas said bitterly. Martin flinched. "Sorry… I just… I don't often have these sorts of moments" he sighed. Martin frowned in confusion. "I just revealed possibly my deepest secret to you. _I_ didn't even know until a few trips ago! I usually know… And I know… I know you don't feel the same, but now you know you can use it against me all you like…" Martin looked down, but didn't say anything. "Didn't you hear me? I said you can use it all you like."

"Why would I!?" Martin exclaimed. Douglas stared at him, frowning. Martin's face was filling with red like a syringe… Douglas was about to ask if he was okay, but Martin cried out first: "I like you too!" The silence that followed was deafening… Douglas stared incredulously at the Captain. "Why would I laugh at you when… When I like you that way…?" Martin whispered. He prayed this wasn't one of the first officer's dirty tricks to humiliate him, but what did he have to lsoe? Not a lot… so why not? Why not risk his heart? If he broke it, at least it would be broken along with everything else. But if not… Perhaps it could be the start of a new life, a new dawn… A chance to pick up the pieces.

After what felt like hours of just standing there (though it was actually more minutes), Douglas moved. Before he could react, Martin was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. At first, his eyes were wide in shock, but then he let his arms fold around Douglas, and he sank into the warmth. He didn't know how long it had been since anyone (even Arthur) had hugged him. He'd been so deprived of affection in recent years, that the simple gesture of a hug (no matter the reason) was an amazing feeling. A warmth he hadn't felt for years began to burn in his heart. A tiny, glowy little flame had ignited in him. He just prayed that Douglas wasn't going to extinguish it, and give him a heart attack…

All Martin could do was revel in the closeness, hoping it wouldn't end soon, but knowing it might. God, Arthur had been right…

"How long?" Douglas' soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hm?" he muttered back, too content for anything more substantial.

"How long have you… Felt that way?" Douglas elaborated. Martin pushed away in order to look a him, regretting it as he lost the contact.

"Um… I don't know how long exactly…. But I think I realised when we delivered that piano to Devon…" he explained reservedly.

"Oh, fell for my piano skills, did you?" Douglas joked. Martin chuckled. That was the Douglas he knew and… yes… loved.

"They helped, but no. I realised because as soon as you offered to help… I didn't want Arthur to help." He muttered, and Douglas' turned from his sarcastic joking expression, to his rare sincere, understanding one. He smiled. "You… you really meant it then?" Martin inquired nervously. "About you… liking me?"

"Yes. I already said I meant every word! Why would I lie?" he asked, incredulous again.

"To… humiliate me?" Martin said, as though it were an obvious alternative, and Douglas' heart twisted as he realised that it was actually quite like him to do that.

"No… I wouldn't do that. Not with something like this…" he muttered. Martin smiled a little, as Douglas tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. For a moment, they just stared into each other's eyes. Martin saw a sincerity that was unnatural in Douglas Richardson. Douglas saw the trust building behind the fear of rejection that always plagued Martin. "I love you." He whispered, like a wisp of smoke, that wrapped itself around Martin, and spread the most goofy, and adorable grin on his face.

Douglas smiled, leaning down, his right hand cupping the face of the young Captain, and he locked their lips together silently. Well, almost silently, but for the small squeak of shocked pleasure that escaped from Martin before he relaxed into the kis, wrapping his rams around Douglas' neck and pulling himself up a little in order to deepen it. Douglas couldn't stop himself smiling into it. As they pulled apart, Douglas saw that Martin's eyes were a little glazed over. "Not been kissed in a while then?" Douglas asked, a little smug.

"Not for years…" Martin said, with a sheepish smile.

"Out of curiosity…" Douglas started a moment later. Martin looked up at him expectantly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well… I never thought- never dreamed that- that you could ever feel the same, I suppose… It was enough for me, just to be n-near you, even if it was painful that it couldn't be… more…" he explained quietly.

"Well, now it can be more, can't it?" Douglas said with a smile and Martin couldn't help but smile back. "Martin…"

"Yeah?"

"How about you move in with me?"

"Huh!? Isn't that a bit… sudden?" Martin asked, stunned.

"Well… I won't charge you rent… And you've been struggling lately. I wanted to ask you before, but the time never really seemed… right." Douglas explained.

"Oh…" Martin said quietly. "Well, I… I'd love to." He muttered. Douglas grinned.

"As Arthur would say… brilliant!" he said, and they both chuckled. "We'll sort it out when we get back." He added. Martin nodded, as Douglas pulled him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed it!!!!!! xxxxx


End file.
